


cut and dry

by panshambles



Series: Minutt for minutt [4]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Dom/sub, Edinburgh because of reasons, M/M, PWP, dom!isak, hairdresser au, sub!even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panshambles/pseuds/panshambles
Summary: Just a short smutty AU where Even is a hairdresser and Isak is cocky and dominant ...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skamsnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skamsnake/gifts).



> I wrote this for the Comm when i was having a real rough time and now i'm sharing it here for anyone who hasn't read it <3 
> 
> Just some PWP to get you through a Monday.
> 
> There's a part II written that I'll post in the next few days, inspired by HCs from skamsnake and Jamz24 (thanks to them for being MVPs <3)
> 
> I'm still working on ARWT and til slutt, don't worry. just wanted to take a break from WIP to post this. hope you enjoy x

‘Even, pal, ye’ve got a last minute walk-in today, it’s yer man in the corner.’  
  
Gregor’s broad Edinburgh accent brings Even to attention as he brushes up the curls on the floor from his last customer. He glances over to the plush red couch inside the front window and sees who Gregor meant.   
  
The blonde guy. The hot blonde guy. The hot blonde guy with curls coming out around his backwards snapback, holding onto a cup of coffee from the refreshments table.  
  
‘What’s the name?’ Even asks Gregor, as he walks over to where he is standing next to the ornate black mirror behind the till.  
  
‘Eh, I think he’s one of yours. Something like Isaac.’  
  
It had taken Even a while to translate Scottish euphemisms into meaning—“one of yours” in this case meant either a Norwegian, a queer guy, or a film geek.  
  
‘One of mine?’ Even asks, with a smirk.   
  
Gregor laughs and explains, ‘Aye, one of your Scandi folk. He’s got a right strong accent, worse than yours.’  
  
Even smiles happily back at his boss before letting out a laugh. ‘You think I have a bad accent in English?’  
  
‘Let’s put it this way,’ Gregor says as he dusts the shelves of shampoos and conditioners next to the mirror. ‘I’d never mistake you for a local. Now g’wan, the lad is waiting and we’re closing early so’s I can watch the match.’  
  
Even nods and walks over to his new customer. In the few seconds between the till and the coffee table he wonders if he should open in Norwegian or English. For Gregor’s sake he decides on English.  
  
‘Hi, Isaac, is it?’ he asks.  
  
The guy looks up from his phone and slowly takes in all of Even, with such a deliberate stare that it can’t be misinterpreted. He is checking Even out. When at last his eyes rest on Even’s face, he raises his eyebrows and gives him a mischievous smile.  
  
‘Call me whatever you want,’ he says.  
  
Even feels like his tongue has stuck to the roof of his mouth. He stands there gobsmacked for a second until he gathers himself, remembers how to flirt, and asks, ‘Ok, handsome. You want a dry cut or a full wash?’  
  
The guy smiles wider at the endearment and stands up. That is when Even notices how he is the same height, but a little broader.   
‘I want everything,’ the guy answers simply.   
  
Even nods, ignoring the way his stare makes goosebumps rise on Even’s skin, and gestures for him to follow suit to the sinks.   
  
‘Let’s get you started,’ he says, as he always does when he picks up the faux-satin oversized bibs for customers that cover knee to neck, tied with Velcro just under the hairline. As he twirls it around the hot man sitting in front of him he chances the question, ‘Er du norsk?’   
  
‘Ja,’ comes the reply, with another smile, ‘du også?’  
  
‘Mmhmm,’ Even hums in reply, as he turns on the thin waterhose and tests the temperature.  
  
‘So you’re actually an Isak, I assume?’ he asks, again in norwegian.  
  
‘Yeah. And what should I call you? Or do hot hairdressers have names?’ Isak asks, licking his lips and resting his head back on the sink, looking up at Even upside-down, ‘Should I just be honest and call you a Wet Dream?’   
  
Isak speaks with no trace of embarrassment. In fact he seems gleeful. Delighted, too, when he sees the blush creep up Even’s cheeks.  
  
‘Even,’ he says, holding the waterhose to Isak’s hair. As the warm water trickles along his scalp, past the tips of his ears, Isak hums and lets out a satisfied sigh.  
  
‘Even,’ Isak repeats, to himself it seems, before he hums something closer to a moan when Even starts running his fingers through his hair.   
  
There’s always something intimate about this moment, Even thinks, about someone allowing you to touch them on such little acquaintance. In his training from Gregor he’d been instructed in how to properly massage customers’ temples, foreheads, necks while washing their hair with conditioner. He rarely spent that much time on someone, as the salon was busy, and most guys preferred you to be quick and efficient. On this occasion, Even thinks he might make an exception.  
  
‘Is that temperature alright?’ he asks.  
  
Isak nods and lets out another gorgeous sigh. ‘Feels good,’ he says, and Even does his best not to get turned on by those words alone.  
  
He briefly leaves the sink to retrieve some shampoo and conditioner. From the looks of it, Isak’s hair is prone to tangling—hardly surprising in this windy Scottish weather—so he gets out the coconut oil too, for later.  
  
‘How’d you end up in Edinburgh?’ Even asks as he pours out some shampoo into his hands and lathers it up.  
  
‘I moved a few weeks ago to start an MA in Astrophysics at the uni here. There’s a professor I really wanna work—ohhhh,’ Isak cuts himself off when Even starts rubbing the shampoo into his wet curls, and lets out another low moan.  
  
‘Is that so?’ Even replies, smirking to himself as Isak closes his eyes, and drops his mouth slightly open.  
  
‘Mmhmm,’ is Isak’s strangled response. ‘Wh-what about you? You have an Oslo accent too.’  
  
‘I started the MFA in Film Directing at the college of art a few weeks ago,’ Even explains as he washes the shampoo out. ‘I did Media Studies at UiO but I wanted to study film specifically so when I was offered I place here, I decided to take it.’  
  
‘You’re kidding?’ Isak says. ‘I was at UiO too!’  
  
Even nearly drops the bottle of conditioner. He stares in the mirror at Isak and tries to be less shocked. ‘You were at UiO? Seriously?’  
  
‘How is this possible,’ Isak says, letting himself crack another smile. ‘I can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting.’  
  
Even pours out the conditioner and starts gently rubbing it between his fingers before he brings it through Isak’s hair. He needs to remember to keep it professional. No matter how soft his hair is. Damn the massage he had planned, this is already too much.  
  
‘Alright,’ Even says as he rinses out the conditioner. ‘What kind of cut are you looking for?’ He notices Isak open his eyes and he can’t help but make eye contact. As Isak lays there submissively, staring up at Even upside down, the hint of a smirk on his face, Even has to resist from leaning down and stealing a kiss.  
  
‘I don’t know. What do you think would look good on me?’ he asks, pouting slightly. Even can barely tolerate the fact that his cockiness is so damn attractive.   
  
‘Well,’ Even begins, as he dries Isak’s hair with a towel, ‘I’m wondering if you want some length off the sides but keep these cute curls on top. I think it’d bring out your cheekbones.’  
  
Isak raises an eyebrow as Even’s hands caress his temples through the towel.   
  
‘Do it,’ he orders.   
  
Even wasn’t expecting that reply, and he can’t ignore the spreading heat in his gut at the dominant tone. He’s surprised by how much he likes it.  
  
He pauses, his hands still on the towel spread across Isak’s head, and swallows once. ‘Ok,’ he says, his voice lower than usual. He throws the towel in the laundry basket, then guides Isak over to a chair.   
  
He shows Isak how much he wants to take off by drawing a comb through the longest of the curls above his ear, and talks him through the rest of the cut. Isak nods along with everything, saying only, ‘I know you’ll make me look pretty,’ with a suggestive wink.  
  
The haircut only takes ten minutes and the whole time he wonders what’s going to happen when it’s over. Is Isak just going to pay and leave? Is he expecting Even to make a move? Will he leave his number? What’s the protocol here?  
  
As Even trims the curls that frame Isak’s face—meaning he’s standing in front of him, his legs straddling Isak’s—out of nowhere Isak hums loudly. Taken aback, Even glances down and asks, ‘Did you say something?’  
  
‘Oh, no,’ Isak says, grinning a little, ‘I just really like this song.’  
  
Even pauses to listen to it for a moment—he’d long since tuned out Gregor’s terrible taste in music—and then scoffs loudly. ‘Really?’ he says.   
  
Isak laughs. ‘Are you shaming your customer for his taste in music? That’s really deplorable service. You might lose your tip for that.’  
  
Even rolls his eyes and starts trimming Isak’s hair again. ‘As if I need any tips from someone who listens to Ludacris.’  
  
Visibly shocked by Even’s sass, Isak’s mouth drops open and he lets out a surprised laugh. ‘I was going to segue very naturally into saying thatinstead of a tip I’d just leave my number, but you might be too insubordinate for me.’  
  
Even’s mouth dries at the word. Insubordinate. There was proof—Isak likes being the one in control.   
  
‘Then again,’ Isak went on, as he ran his fingers through his new haircut. ‘You’ve done a good job here. Well done, Even. I might make an exception for you.’  
  
Even is still standing with his legs bracketing Isak’s, and he feels more conscious of it now than ever. He’s still holding his comb and scissors and gaping at Isak for his admission. The praise, the dominance...he’s so taken aback but, he wants more.  
  
He collects himself and puts his instruments down, picking up the brush instead to rid Isak of most of the stray hairs fallen around his collar. And to give himself a moment to cool down.   
  
‘You can do whatever you like,’ Even finally says. ‘I’m open to it.’ He keeps his eyes fixed on Isak’s hair so Gregor has no reason to suspect what they’re actually chatting about. But Even steals a glance in the mirror and sees Isak staring back, his eyes hooded and dark as he licks his lips again.   
  
At that moment Gregor takes his coat off the rack. ‘I’m calling it a night, Even. Match starts in a few minutes at the pub next door,’ he calls out, ‘Just lock up when you’re done.’ He doesn’t look back as he grabs his keys and exits.  
  
Isak smirks to himself and Even spins around to pick up the coconut oil, scooping out some and warming it between his palms. ‘Your curls might be easier to untangle if you use this,’ he says, attempting to sound professional again.   
  
‘I like it better when you do it for me,’ Isak says defiantly, his hands gripping the ends of the armrests as he squares himself in the mirror. Even notices it, and glances up. When he does, Isak maintains his gaze and then slowly, deliberately, spreads his legs.   
  
Even’s eyes are drawn to the movement and his fingers still in Isak’s hair. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to function with Isak being so flirtatious.   
  
‘You’re closing tonight?’ Isak asks. Even nods, dragging the oil through the ends of Isak’s curls.   
  
Isak tilts his head into Even’s touch and leans back. ‘Instead of locking up, why not lock us both in?’  
  
Even looks at him, stupefied. He immediately knows what Isak’s suggesting. The windows have curtains. There’s a big soft couch. Gregor is not coming back tonight. They have nowhere to be. He doesn’t know if he can risk it, though. He only just started this job, if anyone found out, it’d be an almost certain termination of his contract.  
  
‘Even?’ Isak asks. ‘Do you know what I’m hinting at?’  
  
Even grabs the cloth hanging from his belt loop to wipe the excess oil off his hands. He can’t think. He can’t breathe.   
  
‘Or should I show you?’ Isak says, standing up, ripping the bib off, and rounding the chair to stand mere inches from Even, leaning into his personal space.  
  
Even backs up to the brick wall behind him as Isak pursues him, placing a hand on each of Even’s hips. He looks at Even like he’s a meal, like he couldn’t be satisfied with anything else, like he’s already seen in the stars that this is happening. And Even is already panting.  
  
‘You want to?’ Isak asks. ‘It’s ok if you don’t.’  
  
He doesn’t make any move, just waits for Even to reply.  
  
‘Yeah. Yes,’ Even finally says, his eyes fixed on Isak’s mouth. ‘God, Isak, yes.’  
  
Isak smiles and nuzzles his nose. Then backs off and walks backwards towards the windows, keeping his eyes on Even. ‘Lock the door. Then sit on the couch,’ he orders as he pulls the curtains closed.   
  
Even obeys immediately. He’s never been like this before, and he only wants more the more Isak insists on this dynamic.   
  
Isak takes off his jacket and his shoes, then curls a finger at Even. ‘I want you to undress for me. I want you to strip fully naked and then I want you to take off my clothes. But you’re not allowed to kiss me yet. I’ll tell you when you are.’  
  
Even jumps up at the command and starts peeling off his shoes and socks. ‘Slower!’ Isak instructs, as he starts palming himself through his jeans.   
  
Closing his eyes with arousal, Even goes slower as Isak demands, and then takes off his tshirt and jeans, all while Isak gently palms himself and lets his eyes wander over Even’s body.   
  
Once Even is naked, he feels twice as exposed in comparison with the still fully-clothed Isak.   
  
‘Gorgeous,’ Isak praises. ‘I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.’  
  
Even whines a little in desperation, knowing Isak won’t let him do anything without an order.  
  
‘Alright,’ Isak concedes. ‘Undress me, now.’  
  
Even paces forward and pulls Isak’s tshirt off, letting his hands caress his arms and chest and ribs on the way back down. Just that touch makes him dizzy with want.   
  
Their faces are mere inches apart and Isak’s lips are parted, inviting and spit-slick. ‘My jeans,’ he reminds Even.  
  
Even drags his fingers down Isak’s abs and relishes the shiver it prompts when he touches Isak’s sensitive happy trail. He pops the button of Isak’s jeans, and pulls down his zipper as slowly as possible. Isak’s chest is rising and falling rapidly now and Even ducks his head to lick up some sweat gathered on his collarbone. The movement makes Isak moan loudly, and Even feels more frantic than ever. He pushes down his jeans and underwear at the same time, and then they’re both standing in the salon, totally naked, and Even waits for his next instruction.   
  
Isak smirks at him and runs a hand through Even’s hair affectionately. ‘Good boy,’ he murmurs, and Even wonder how he got here. How Isak walked in half an hour ago and now here they were, ready to fuck on the salon couch.   
  
Isak falls back on the couch and gestures at his lap for Even to climb into. He looks up at him expectantly, and raises his eyebrows when Even doesn’t comply. At that Even immediately steps forward and lowers himself onto Isak, his knees on either side of Isak’s hips, his dick on full display against Isak’s stomach.  
  
‘I doubt you have any lube or condoms in here,’ Isak admits, his hands caressing Even’s thighs, ‘so we’re going to have to get creative.’  
  
Even nods and wraps his arms around Isak’s neck, leaning forward when Isak’s hands spread on his lower back.  
  
‘Kiss me,’ Isak whispers, and Even doesn’t wait any longer. He presses his lips against Isak’s and the touch is nowhere near enough. He feels everything, the way he’s squirming in Isak’s lap, the press of Isak’s fingers into his skin, the heat of Isak’s hardening dick. He automatically starts grinding down, seeking out that hardness, and groaning into Isak’s mouth the more he feels it.   
  
Isak pulls back. ‘Even. I want you to touch yourself.’  
  
Even moans in protest. ‘I want to touch you.’  
  
‘No,’ Isak says, and Even suddenly notices how much his own dick is hard, wet, nearly painful, at the way Isak is taking control.   
  
‘Touch yourself. Right here,’ Isak instructs. ‘On my lap. I want you to let yourself get close, but not come yet.’  
  
Even feels more exposed than ever. ‘What—what about you?’   
  
‘I want to watch you,’ he says. ‘Because I like looking at you. And something tells me you like it when I am.’  
  
Even grabs Isak and kisses him fiercely again, licking his lips and dipping into the wet heat of his mouth. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way he sounds, Even is intoxicated.   
  
‘Touch yourself,’ Isak repeats, hot on Even’s lips.   
  
Even trails a hand down between them and grabs himself, tugging and squeezing. He unconsciously moves back and forth on Isak’s lap, mimicking how to ride him, and he doesn’t miss how Isak automatically starts grinding up in response.   
  
‘Yeah baby,’ Isak groans into Even’s ear. ‘Just like that. You’re so good for me. Touching yourself like this. Can’t wait to see you come.’  
  
Even moans and feels the tingling pressure between his legs when his orgasm gets that much more urgent. Isak’s words seem to go straight to his groin. He wants and wants and wants.  
  
‘Isak—‘ he says, his voice shot.  
  
‘Are you close, gorgeous?’   
  
Even nods furiously.  
  
‘Stop,’ Isak orders. Even begrudgingly takes his hand off his dick, still grinding down onto Isak.  
  
Isak tightens his grasp on Even’s hips, hushing him and kissing him gently. ‘It’s ok,’ he whispers, ‘I’m gonna take care of you.’  
  
He pushes Even until he’s lying down on the couch and Isak moves between his legs, lowering himself until he’s kissing Even’s stomach, his hipbones, his thighs. Even can’t stop shaking.  
  
He brings his hands to Isak’s hair just as Isak swallows him down.   
  
‘Fuck! Oh, fuck—Isak—‘ he shouts.   
  
‘Quiet down,’ Isak orders as he pops off with an obscene sound. ‘We can’t let anyone know what we’re doing.’  
  
At that Even moans louder still.  
  
‘Oh,’ Isak says. ‘Unless that’s what you want...’  
  
Even screws his eyes shut and tightens his grip on Isak’s curls.   
  
‘That is what you’d like,’ Isak observes. ‘You want everyone to hear you, to know how much I can make you feel, to see you with my head between your legs. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having everyone’s eyes on you while I take you apart with my tongue?’  
  
Isak doesn’t wait for a reply when he swallows Even back down, letting his dick touch the back of his throat. Even shouts again and writhes on the couch, panting and swearing.  
  
Isak’s hands, which had been on his thighs, now move down and back, so his fingers start caressing his ass cheeks, his crack. Even breaks out in a new sweat as Isak’s index finger winds its way past his perineum and lightly pads against his rim.   
  
He’s powerless against the way his orgasm overwhelms him.

Grabbing hold of Isak’s face, he pushes him off while mumbling, ‘Isak, I—stop, I’m gonna come—‘  
  
As Isak glances up, he smirks and wraps his hand around Even’s dick, stroking up and down and kissing it. ‘I want you to,’ he says, ‘I want you to come in my mouth.’  
  
Without a word, he puts his lips back around Even’s dick, which immediately starts shooting. The pleasure that courses through him is white hot and he has no idea what words he’s spouting. It’s only as he calms down that he glances down. The sight that meets him almost makes him come again.   
  
Isak is still lying between his legs, most of Even’s come across his lips and cheeks as he grins up at him.   
  
‘Ok,’ Even says, breathless. ‘My turn.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you don't want any spoilers, stop reading now.
> 
> if you don't mind spoilers, and want to know the tags for this chapter, read on:
> 
>  
> 
> tags:  
> facefucking, deepthroating, praise kink, miscommunication, mirror sex, spanking, FEELINGS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the kinkiest thing i've written yet. this is esp. dedicated to skamsnake who prompted most of the hcs here :) and the black-and-white shirt makes an appearance, for Jamz24. hope you enjoy <3

‘I hope you dinnae mind me askin’ but, where are ye from, pal?’ 

Even puts on his best customer smile and replies, ‘Norway. I moved here a few months ago.’

‘Och right so,’ the middle-aged man says, shifting his hands out from under the satin bib. Even notices again the sleeves of tattoos and wonders if he’ll ever brave up to go to the parlour across the road and get his own. 

‘I’ll just finish the trim on top and then I’ll get the clippers out to tidy up your hairline,’ Even explains as he snips away the length from the man’s crown, revealing the salt-and-pepper colour coming out. 

He nods and waves for Even to continue his work before he finds the courage to ask, ‘So eh, why’d you leave Norway then? I’d thought ye Scandi lads had it all figured out, with yer free healthcare and yer  _civic responsibility_  and a’ tha’. Not that I criticise yer choice, mind--if you had to go anywhere you were wise to come here. We dinnae pay some ludicrous amountae tax on oor booze.’

Even laughs happily, ‘Yeah, you’ve got a point there, Fraser. But I came here to do a postgraduate degree.’

‘Oh aye?’ Fraser says with a curious and delighted grin. ‘Yer a brainy one, then, eh?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Even replies, his mind immediately jumping to the intrusive thought,  _it’s not like I’m studying Astrophysics_. 

His heart hurts for a moment. He chooses to push that feeling down and refocus on Fraser’s hearty laugh.

‘G’wan then,’ Fraser says. ‘Wha’s the degree in?’

‘Film Directing.’

‘So you came a’ the way to Scotland to become the next big Stephen Spielberg?’ he asks, grinning still.

‘Something like that,’ Even says, ‘though he wouldn’t be my first choice as role model.’

‘Ah yer one of those film buffs, then, tha’ watches only black n’ white French cinema and writes reviews in the paper?’

Even rolls his eyes and suppresses another laugh as he gets out the clippers and brings it to the short hairs on Fraser’s neck. ‘Yeah, that’s more like it,’ he says sarcastically.

‘Well I dinnae mind tha so much,’ Fraser announces, solemn all of a sudden. ‘Yer a fine barber, I’ll gie ye tha.’

Even lets the compliment sink in and he meets Fraser’s eye in the mirror. He nods in thanks and then takes off the bib. 

‘ _Tha’s you_ ,’ Even says, in his best impression of a Scottish accent.

Raising both eyebrows, Fraser looks at him as he stands to his feet and lets out a disbelieving laugh. ‘Better work on tha, I’m afraid. Y’sound like yiv got a swollen tongue.’

‘My accent is impeccable,’ Even insists, as he walks over to the till and beckons for Fraser to follow.

‘Aye, it’s almost as good as mah English,’ Fraser retorts.

Feigning offence, Even holds a hand to his heart and rounds on Fraser with an aghast expression. Fraser only winks mischievously back, then takes his wallet out and hands Even a twenty pound note.

Even takes it and opens the till to get out his change when Fraser holds a hand up. ‘Nah,’ he says, ‘the rest is a tip.’

Not knowing how to accept this kindness, Even stares confusedly at the note and back at Fraser. ‘No, I’ll--’

‘I won’t take no for an answer, pal,’ Fraser insists, putting his wallet in his back pocket and turning to the door. ‘I’ll see ye next month,’ he shouts back.

‘Thanks!’ Even calls, ‘I’ll give  _Jurassic Park_ another go!’

Fraser laughs as he opens the door. Before he can leave, someone is already walking in. 

‘Oh, sorry, lad,’ Fraser says politely. 

He then taps the new customer on the shoulder and says, ‘The barber plans on being the next Spielberg,’ with a thumb gesturing behind him to Even, before he walks out of the shop with a chuckle and the bell rings the door shut behind him.

Even, still putting the money into the till, sighs and calls out, ‘Not  _Spielberg_! Say Bergman, or Kurosawa, or Rønning and Sandberg--’

‘The guys who directed that  _Pirates of the Caribbean_ sequel?  _They’re_ your idols?’

At the sound of that voice, replying in perfect Norwegian, Even’s head snaps up. He can barely believe his eyes. 

 _Isak_.

For weeks, Even’s replayed  _that evening_  in his mind — and it will always be  _that evening_ — which he spent rolling around on the red couch, sweating, panting, taking in the sight of Isak all worked up and demanding more. 

But as much as he revels in those memories, they’re quickly soured by the bitter memory of what followed.

‘I was thinking more along the lines of  _Kon-Tiki_ ,’ Even replies, forcing his gaze back to the till, attemping to feign indifference as he fiddled with the receipts.

‘Hmm?’ Isak asks. In his peripheral vision, Even can see that Isak is strolling towards him.

Even closes the till, out of things to distract him from Isak now standing on the other side of the counter. ‘It came out in 2012,’ he says, eyes now nervously moving up to Isak’s face, ‘First Norwegian film to be nominated for an Oscar and a Golden Globe. It’s about--’ 

‘Even,’ Isak interrupts, with an exasperated and fond sigh. ‘I know what it’s about. Thor Heyerdahl, the raft, the Pacific. How many times is any Oslo schoolchild forced to go to the Kon-Tiki Museum?’

‘Yeah, well, that’s the film I was thinking of. Not  _Pirates_ ,’ Even replies, his eyes back to his hands, fiddling with his apron strings. He didn’t know why he was this unsettled around Isak, why he felt slightly rejected somehow, why he was ever so slightly resentful of Isak walking in like nothing was amiss. But he also knew Isak owed him nothing, that he was entitled to walk back into the salon and ask for a haircut like any other customer. Plus, no small part of Even was secretly thrilled.

‘Mm,’ Isak says. ‘As much as I’d like to argue film with someone who studies it, I’m actually here for a haircut.’

Even glances up at his hair, and nods. ‘Same as last time?’ he asks, taking in the long curls over Isak’s ears.

‘Maybe,’ Isak says, his tone lower than before. It takes Even a moment to catch up.  _Oh, last time--_

‘Maybe not,’ Isak goes on, giving a lopsided and cheeky smile to Even before walking over to the sink.

For some reason, Isak’s cockiness isn’t a turn-on right now. Even feels like he’s being played with, like he’s being mocked somehow, like Isak is happy to humiliate him.

He squares his shoulders and follows Isak to the sink, grabbing a bib from the shelf behind it and clinically throwing it around Isak’s neck, tucking a towel into the back of his sweatshirt. He then turns Isak so his back is to the chair, and unceremoniously shoves him down into it.

‘Hey!’ Isak protests as he flops into the seat. ‘What’s your problem?’

Even doesn’t reply, just walks around to the sink and turns on the water. He dials up the temperature until it’s on the uncomfortable side of hot. Then grabs a handful of Isak’s curls, pulls hard, and guides the hot water over them.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa,’ Isak hisses. ‘Time out, time out.’ He pushes Even’s hands away and stands up, hair dripping onto his shoulders and down his neck. In the same second, he tears the bib off, throws it on the floor, and stares at Even. 

‘What. Is. Your.  _Problem?_ ’

‘Nothing,’ Even spits back. But his heart is heavy. He doesn’t understand why he wants Isak this much. Why he wants Isak to apologise. Why he also inexplicably wants Isak to leave.

But Even’s reply, defensive as it is, seems to strike something in Isak. He steps forward until Even backs up against the brick wall.

‘Why are you pissed at  _me_?’ Isak asks. ‘If anyone should be angry, it’s me.’

Bewildered by Isak’s self-defence, Even scoffs in disbelief. The way things ended could not have made Isak’s intentions clearer.

> _‘Let’s do this again sometime,’ Isak said, smirking on the threshold._
> 
> ‘If you’re free tomorrow evening, you know where to find me,’ Even replied, zipping Isak’s fly back up and letting his touch linger.
> 
> Even took on extra shifts in case Isak arrived on a day he wasn’t working. He left instructions with Gregor to give Isak his number if he was out. 
> 
> Isak never came back.

The fact that Isak is here now, insisting Even somehow did him wrong, is maddening. So typical of guys like him, who feel so entitled to whatever comes their way, so righteous in their decisions. But Isak genuinely looks like he’s hurt--and Even is incensed by it. 

‘What?’ he bites back, ‘What on earth did I do to  _you_?’

Isak rolls his eyes and backs off. ‘Whatever,’ he mutters, turning to leave. 

Even, more confused than ever, doesn’t think before he rushes after him. Despite how frustrated he is, he doesn’t want him to go. 

‘That’s it, is it? You just walk off when you realise you’ve been an unmitigated dick and I’m not gonna tolerate it?’ 

That makes Isak stop in his tracks. He rounds back, hands in fists, and glares at Even. ‘ _I’m_ the unmitigated dick here? Are you kidding me?’

‘What are you trying to do!’ Even says, raising his arms in exasperation. ‘You can’t rewrite history and make yourself out to be the injured party!’

Isak launches forward and pushes Even against the wall. Even notices how his own body reacts to it with a violent acceleration of arousal. His skin flushes hot in the second before his back hits the bricks. His heart rate speeds up when he feels how close Isak is, when he sees how  _frustrated_ he is. His hands automatically move to Isak’s waist. 

‘You’re such an asshole,’ Isak mutters.

Then he pulls Even in by the neck. 

He kisses him hard on the lips, immediately tilting his head and licking into Even’s mouth with a heat he hadn’t expected. But it doesn’t matter that it was unexpected: Even’s body reacts instinctually, pulling Isak closer and opening his mouth to him like he can’t get enough, won’t get enough. 

He suddenly realises he’s gripping onto Isak’s hips, guiding them down in a grind onto his right thigh. Isak’s dick is hard in his jeans as he rubs himself off on Even, and it serves only to get Even breathless and dizzy with desire.

‘Fuck,’ Isak whispers as he holds onto Even’s shoulders with a grip that hurts. Even is surprised to find that the pain turns him on  _more_. He suddenly wonders with a lurching curiosity and trepidation what else he can get Isak to do that might hurt a little, but hurt really good.

‘This fucking shirt,’ Isak moans, as he moves his trembling fingers across the black-and-white striped pattern, and towards Even’s shirt buttons. ‘You-- I--’ He gives up on words as he starts frantically unbuttoning it and then pushing it over Even’s shoulders and down his arms.

‘You hate it that much?’ Even murmurs, as he brings his hands back to Isak’s hips and guides him back down to rut against his thigh.

‘No, I just hate you,’ Isak says, but his voice is breathless and empty of malice. He leans in and gives Even another lingering kiss, tightening his hands in Even’s hair, covering his body with his own as he grinds on Even, further against the wall.

‘The feeling is mutual,’ Even mumbles into his mouth. He then pushes Isak back and forces him to sit in the chair under the sink. Before Isak can properly protest, Even kneels on top of him, both knees on either side of Isak’s hips. He leans over him, picks up the waterhose in the sink, and turns it on. 

‘What--what are you doing?’ Isak asks, leaning his neck back onto the lip of the sink, confused by Even’s switch in focus.

‘You look good when you’re wet,’ Even replies, staring down at Isak’s face to watch how his eyes darken at the innuendo. 

Without a word, Even leans forward so his groin is flush against Isak’s mouth, and then he starts to wash Isak’s hair.

Isak moans at the feeling of Even’s fingers running through his hair, and the vibrations and heat of his mouth against Even’s dick are enough for him to falter slightly. He hadn’t considered when he adopted this position that he was showing dominance over Isak. And he’s surprised at how easily Isak has allowed it.

Isak’s hands trail up Even’s thighs and he starts to unbutton his jeans. Even tries to focus on washing his hair, because he has plans for them, now. There’s only one thing he wants. He only hopes Isak will let him do it.

Isak’s tongue peeks between his lips and touches the zipper, and Even loses his breath. Then Isak grabs the zipper between his teeth and starts to open it with just his mouth. Even completely forgets about the sink and stares down at the sight between his legs.

Before he can say anything, Isak noses past his open jeans and nuzzles into Even’s hardening dick. That’s when--

‘You’re going commando?’ Isak asks, his voice shot.

‘I was waiting for you,’ Even replies, unashamed. He wants Isak to know.

Isak groans and stares up at Even, his chest heaving. Then Even realises with a shuddering dread that it’s still 3pm on a Thursday, the salon is open, and anyone could walk in at any moment.

‘Shit--’ he snaps. He jumps off the chair, hastily zips up his jeans as he runs towards the door, then locks it and pulls the curtains, hoping against hope that no one saw them.

Once he’s sufficiently hidden them from the public eye, he takes a moment to catch his breath. His hands are resting on his sides as he closes his eyes and tries to reassert some control.

He shouldn’t be so weak for this guy. He shouldn’t go from giving him the cold shoulder to grinding against him. And he definitely should not let this go any further. He’s supposed to be cutting people’s hair, not fucking a random stranger during business hours.

‘Hey,’ he hears from behind--Isak is still sitting in the chair, water dripping into his eyes, a thickening bulge visible in his pants.

Even turns to look at him and suddenly feels vulnerable in a way he didn’t before. The fact that they’re both just staring at each other makes Even wonder what exactly it is they’re doing here. If it was a quick fuck Isak wanted, he already got it. Why is he back? What does he really want? 

Too afraid of the answers, Even decides not to ask the questions. And he waits for Isak to say something else.

‘Can you come back here and let me blow you now?’ Isak asks, with a trace of impatience.

And just like that, Even feels a small smile grow on his face. Maybe this can be just another quickie, and he can get on with his life. He should stop overthinking things.

Even saunters back to the sink, feeling like he has some control again. He walks until his legs are bracketing Isak’s, and he towers over him, his arms folded over his chest.

‘Say please,’ Even demands.

Isak’s mouth drops open and that tongue starts to peek out again. It’s a potent distraction, but Even is unwavering. ‘Say  _please_ ,’ he says again, his right hand reaching out so he can trace his fingers along Isak’s lips.

But Isak doesn’t obey. Instead he opens his mouth and brings Even’s fingers between his teeth, licking and sucking obscenely, so that Even nearly forgets what he’d just said.

Isak holds eye contact the whole time he does this, and Even has to remind himself not to lose focus. He stares back and raises his eyebrows, prompting Isak to speak.

Isak slowly moves his lips off Even’s fingers, and then says, ‘ _Please_ , Even. Kneel here and fuck my face until you need to come. But you can’t come in my mouth. I want you to come on my face and in my hair. Mark me up.’

‘Jesus,’ Even groans, as he quickly shucks his jeans off, and kneels on top of Isak’s lap. Isak doesn’t hesitate: he brings his hands to Even’s hips, and guides him closer, so the tip of his hard dick is touching his open lips, precome going all over his cheeks.

Just the sight of that alone, Isak’s eyes closed in pleasure as he moves Even’s hips so his dick slides back and forth across his wet lips, is too much. Even is already so close. He grips the lip of the sink in both hands and lets out a stuttered moan when Isak’s tongue starts to lick around the tip, concentrating on his sensitive spots.

‘Oh, fy faen,’ Even moans, and Isak starts to suck properly, moving his mouth further down Even’s dick, his hands moving from Even’s hips to his balls and perineum. Before Even can process it, Isak has licked two of his own fingers and brought them to Even’s rim.

‘Isak--’ Even breathes out, in desperate pleasure. The sensations are too much, his skin feels too tight, too hot, and his mouth has gone dry. But he doesn’t want Isak to stop.

Isak, however, moves his hands back to Even’s hips and grabs them. He looks up at Even, and nods. Even almost buckles when he remembers what Isak is asking.

‘Are you sure?’ he says, his hands moving to Isak’s hair, still wet across the lip of the sink.

Isak closes his eyes. And Even nearly comes then and there.

He thrusts forward as slowly as he can into Isak’s mouth, and he moves his right hand to Isak’s neck. It’s a revelation to feel it bulge where his dick starts to go down his throat.

‘Oh holy fuck,’ Even moans, as he realises Isak has no gag reflex, that he’s going to take all of him.

Isak’s eyes open and he pulls Even’s hips towards him, underlining his intent. He hollows his cheeks and Even is breathless at the wet, hot tightness.

‘ _Fuck_ , Isak, you’re so good for me,’ he mutters, and Isak moans in response. They both move at the same time, Even thrusting forward as Isak pulls him in, and they both groan loudly when Isak’s lips touch the base of his dick, his nose squashed into Even’s abdomen.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Even says quickly, as he pulls back a bit, but Isak makes a high sound of protest as he grabs hold of Even’s hips again. Even, realising Isak is serious and prepared, thrusts into his mouth, and wraps his right hand around Isak’s neck again to feel the effect: Isak’s pulse is wild, and the way his throat is stretching to accommodate Even’s length is astonishing. Even can feel everything, and he can’t hold back any longer. 

He moves his hands to Isak’s hair, holds tight and starts to fuck Isak’s face in earnest. The sounds they both make are low and encouraging, and the slap of skin and spit is indecent. Even cannot believe Isak is letting him do this, that he  _suggested_ it when it was exactly what Even had hoped for when he climbed on top of Isak in the first place. He’s never been comfortable enough with anyone before to do it, or to mention doing it, and yet he finds himself kneeling on top of a stranger and losing himself in the way Isak’s mouth accommodates him, the way his hands travel around to Even’s ass and encourage him to go deeper, occasionally sneaking past his asscheeks to tease his rim.

All too soon, Even feels his orgasm hurtling forward. His thrusts falter as he gets out the words, ‘Isak — I’m… gonna …’

Isak moans and closes his eyes, letting his jaw slacken more still, and Even takes it as permission. He frantically thrusts in and out while he grabs hold of Isak’s hair, and just as he feels it about to happen, he pulls out and starts to stroke himself in front of Isak’s face.

It’s a moment of total vulnerability as he takes himself in hand, and Isak takes a few moments to catch his breath. When he finally speaks, his voice is broken.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he groans, ‘I want to feel it. God, I want it so bad. Please--do it for me. Come on my face. In my hair. I want you to make a mess of me. Come on, Even.  _Come_. Come for me.’

That’s all it takes. Even’s orgasm is total and sudden, and he comes so hard and so fast that he has to screw his eyes shut--but he still sees stars. There’s a white-hot heat between his legs as he’s coming and all he hears is the roar of blood in his ears and a far-away sound of his own loud shout.

When he stops coming, a new sweat breaks out, and he quickly removes his hand as his dick starts to soften and get sensitive. He heaves for breath and then, slowly, opens his eyes.

Isak is out of breath, too, streaks of come in his half-wet hair, across his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips, and one dribbling down his neck. He’s smiling up at Even, though, as he brings a finger to his lips and slowly sucks on it, making sure Even sees how he gathered some come into his mouth, too.

‘Oh my god,’ Even croaks out. ‘I--’

‘Clean me up,’ Isak says, ‘and then you better give me that haircut I came here for.’

\--

Isak blushes. Even realises he’s never seen Isak bashful before, and it’s alarmingly cute.

‘Did you--?’ he asks.

‘It happens sometimes,’ Isak mumbles.

‘Isak,’ Even whispers, in awe. ‘Do you have any idea how hot that is?’ 

Having just washed and cut Isak’s hair — and endured a near-constant attack of Isak feeling him up as he moved around the chair, only to stop when Even responded — Even is keyed up to another pitch of horny excitement. 

Apparently Isak was too, because as soon as Even had finished cutting Isak’s hair, Isak jumped on him and brought him down on top of him on the couch. Which is when Even discovered, after slipping his hand inside Isak’s boxers, that Isak came when he blew him.

‘Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you?’ Isak asks in reply, boldly holding Even’s gaze. ‘I mean fuck you for real?’

Even feels that tingling mix of anxiety and desire he knows so well from being around Isak. The switches in control is enough to make him lightheaded with arousal. And he knows whatever he agrees to is going to be as pleasurable as it is intense. That doesn’t stop him being slightly concerned about letting go of that much control.

Sensing Even’s hesitance, Isak leaves a gentle kiss on his cheek, another on his jaw. He mumbles into Even’s neck, ‘Only if you want to. I’ll make you feel so good. But only if you want.’

Even sighs. He does want it. But he remembers how this all fell apart the last time they rolled around on the couch.

‘Why did you ghost me for a month?’ he asks. It’s blunt and out of nowhere, but he needs to know.

Isak pulls back, and frowns up at Even. ‘Ghost you? Are you serious? I left you my number and you never fucking called.’

That, Even did not expect. ‘You didn’t leave your number,’ he protests. ‘I would have remembered that. I would have called you. I spent most nights fruitlessly trying to find you on Grindr or Facebook or Instagram. You think I wouldn’t have called you if you left your number?’

‘But I did!’ Isak says. ‘When I paid for the haircut, I wrote my number on the back of  _your_ copy of the credit card receipt.’

 _Oh_. Even thinks. That explains a lot. A brief panic follows where Even wonders if Gregor found the receipt--but he never said anything. Then he refocuses on Isak.

‘Seriously?’ Even asks, incredulous. ‘Fuck, I-- I didn’t know. I didn’t see you write anything. I just put it in the till with the rest of the receipts.’

‘Fuck,’ Isak whispers, letting his forehead fall onto Even’s shoulder. ‘No wonder you were mad at me for coming back.’

‘Well now I get why you were being pissy with me, at least,’ Even jokes.

‘I was not  _pissy_!’ Isak protests. He half-heartedly shoves against Even’s chest and breaks out a smile.

It makes Even fond, so fond. 

‘Damn you’re cute when you’re angry,’ Even says, nuzzling his nose against Isak’s.

‘Cute?  _Cute_?’ Isak says, offended. ‘I’ll show you fucking cute,’ he continues, as he pulls Even down for a bruising kiss.

\--

‘Faen,’ Even moans. ‘ _Faen_. Yeah, right there.’

‘You feel so fucking good,’ Isak mutters, right before he lets out a deep groan as he thrusts back in.

Even grips tighter onto the small shelf in front of the long portrait mirrors lining the wall nearest the sinks. 

They’d long since kicked away the chair and trolleys with brushes and scissors out of their way, though Even did not miss the fact that Isak kept the handheld mirror nearby. He grows hotter still at the thought of what Isak might do with it.

He looks up to the long mirror in front of him to see Isak, standing behind him. Isak is holding fast to his hips, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace, and staring down at where his dick is disappearing into Even’s ass.

At one particularly harsh in-stroke, Isak’s grip grows painfully tight, and Even gets an idea that makes him moan louder still at just the  _thought_ of it.

‘Isak,’ he grunts, reaching his hand back to curve around Isak’s ass, encouraging him.

At the sound of his name, Isak’s eyes shoot up to the mirror so he can see Even. ‘Yeah?’ he asks, moving his left hand between Even’s shoulders and pushing a little.

‘Mmm,’ Even moans at the shift in angle, his ass higher in the air as Isak continues fucking him. But he remembers what he wants.

‘Isak,’ he says again, and Isak replies, ‘You want me to stop?’

‘No,’ Even says quickly. ‘No. I want you to spank me.’

Isak’s thrusts stutter and his mouth drops open. Disgruntled with this sudden pause, Even grabs a firmer hold of Isak’s ass and grunts, ‘I didn’t ask you to stop fucking me. I asked you to spank me.’

‘You--you want that?’ Isak asks, picking up his pace again, and leaning closer to Even, his hands moving to rest on both of Even’s asscheeks, squeezing slightly.

‘Yes, Isak--fuck, please, do it. Spank me. Hard.’

Isak squeezes until it’s slightly painful, but Even groans out, ‘ _Spank me, Isak_.’

Unwiling to let this chance go, Isak doesn’t hesitate to raise his right hand and bring it down fast against Even’s ass. The sharp slap stings a little, but then it only increases Even’s pleasure, at the same rate as Isak increases his pace. 

‘ _Oh fuck_ ,’ Even groans, ‘again. Please. Isak. Again.’

‘Shit,’ Isak moans back, ‘you’re perfect, bending over like this, taking me, begging for more.’ Isak is getting close, Even realises, as his voice gets higher and his moans deeper.

‘Isak,’ Even reminds him. ‘C’mon,’ he says, as he reaches back for Isak’s left hand and brings it to his ass.

Isak lets out another low moan and a desperate whine. He massages Even’s asscheeks while he fucks eagerly between them, the slap-slap of their skin already loud in the salon, the sight of his dick wet inside Even’s hole enough to make him close to orgasm.

‘Such a good boy,’ Isak mumbles, right before he smacks Even’s left asscheek. 

At the release, Even moans the loudest yet, and warns Isak, ‘Baby, you’re gonna make me come if you do that again.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Isak demands, smoothing his hands over the red skin, rubbing some of the soreness away.

‘Yes,’ Even says, ‘please. Once more. Hard.’

‘Not yet,’ Isak says. And he reaches over for the handheld mirror. ‘I want you to see something first.’

Isak holds up the mirror at such an angle that when Even looks into the long wall-mirror in front of him, he sees the reflection of his own back, and ass. 

‘Oh god,’ Even says, breathless, when he realises what Isak is about to do.

‘Yeah, I want you to see what I see,’ Isak says, as he angles the mirror again, so Even can see in exact detail the image of Isak’s dick pushing in and pulling out of his hole. It’s profane, it’s frantic, it’s fucking  _hot_.

The sight makes him frenzied. He is  _so turned on_ by the ridiculousness of what they’re doing, the taboo of it, the simple fact that Isak is standing there in all his glorious nakedness and pounding into Even like his life was depending on it. And how fucking good their bodies look while they do it.

It seems to have a similar effect on Isak, who lets out a fraught whine when Even sees what is in the mirror. And then he ups the pace again, and they’re fucking at a wild and frenetic pace, both lost in the feeling, the overwhelming pleasure, the intense heat of it.

‘Isak, please, one more--’ Even gets out between clenched teeth. 

At once Isak obliges, and strikes a forceful slap down against Even’s ass, the twinned pressure and pain of which sends Even  _flying_ over the edge, as he screams out his orgasm. His dick just shoots out streak after streak of come, dirtying the mirror in front of him, splattering on the floor. He can barely believe how loud he’s being, just bellowing out his release, but it feels so intensely delicious he can’t find it in himself to care.

‘Oh, fuck, Even, you’re so good for me, so good--’ Isak rambles, frantic, before he too shoves his dick in as far as he can push, so hot and wet with desire, and he finally lets go. Even watches in the mirror how Isak comes undone, the way his face softens in bliss as he drills into Even’s ass with exquisite demand, right before he lets out his last deep, pleasured moan, and drops his head to Even’s back.

They both stay there, panting, shaking from the sex, letting out a small chuckle as they realise how much like lustful teenagers they look. 

Isak pulls out, disposes of the condom, and leads Even back to the sofa, lying with his full weight on top of him in a way that makes Even feel immediately safe and grounded.

‘If I leave you my number in an obvious way this time,’ Isak says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, ‘will you call me?’

Even laughs happily against Isak’s throat and holds him closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was just 100% self-indulgent PWP, and i'm thankful that you've all indulged me <3


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